Breathe
by Superis
Summary: v.intr. - "To inhale and exhale air; to be alive."


**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything except the plot. This fanfiction is purely for amusements sake. Do not rob us of our amusement, please.

**Dedicated To**: Linda. For putting up with me for as long as she's been my Kyouya and I've been her Tamaki. It may have been forever – but I think time fools us all.

--

"_Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive_."

- Anäis Nin

--

Kyouya had been sitting in silence for over three hours. This is not unusual, different or even disturbing for him. Silence is just a part of his life – as natural as breathing or eating. His steel-grey eyes move quickly across the page, taking in every word without a second's hesitation. He hears not the steady pattering of the rain outside his carefully constructed shell; the suffocating emptiness of his house does not move him in the slightest. The heater is humming steadily; the branches of the trees outside his window are whipping against it sadistically. Kyouya almost forgets to breathe in his absorption. The world, at that moment, is no more than the book he holds. He's captivated. He's immersed. What else could there _possibly_ be?

_Tamaki S__uou._

And his world irrevocably, inexplicably and uncontrollably shatters.

--

Before that narcissistic 'king' came into his life, Kyouya was known mainly for his cool and dismissive demeanour to things that did not benefit him. He was still human. He could smile, laugh and perhaps even have fun. _He just didn't want to_. Kyouya failed to see why people didn't understand. How hard could it be? He simply wanted to be left alone. There was no future for him: his fate had been written in glutinous, black ink. If something in his world did not comply with logic then it did not exist. Everything could be explained, one way or the other. Anything.

And then _he_ came. Tamaki defied logic. Kyouya no longer had an explanation; he no longer had a reason. Everything just seemed to stop when Tamaki told it to, it danced when Tamaki commanded; it would even go as far as to infect the minds' of others. Kyouya didn't understand. Someone so shallow, so self-absorbed and egotistical shed so much light on something so dark.

What puzzled Kyouya most was why Tamaki never left him alone. He was always there, always smiling. It was as if Tamaki really meant it when he said Kyouya was his _best friend_. Kyouya didn't see the need for a _best friend_. What made a _best friend_ different from any other friend? He was sure a _best friend_ simply meant they were allowed to be more demanding and waste more time, as Tamaki did to no end. On top of that, Kyouya found that Tamaki was proving to be more perceptive and intuitive than he had intially assumed. Kyouya despised being wrong, above all things. It left a bittr after taste that never left his mouth until he could give a proper explanation.

"Kyou-kun!" Tamaki had squealed excitedly a few years ago (when they had just met - _so long ago_, he thinks), running into him with unnecessary force, "What shall we do today? I've always wanted to go to your house! Can I come to your house, Kyouya? Would your daddy mind? Shima won't let me bring friends over yet – she says the mansion needs to be cleaned. I have _no_ idea why. It looks perfectly fine! Though, I was wondering why all the curtains were drawn in the music room, I thought maybe Shima could be a vampire! What do you think, Kyou-kun? Kyou-kun? …Kyouya?" Kyouya tried to reason that this was a way that he expressed love – but what exactly was there to love? Kyouya had not reacted any differently to Tamaki than he did a rock.

He put on a smile anyway, closing his eyes against the harsh glare of light Tamaki often emitted, "Hai, Tamaki?"

He opened his eyes when Tamaki did not respond, wondering why the blonde suddenly seemed so quiet. He saw Tamaki cocking his head thoughtfully, a small smile playing around his lips. Kyouya felt a sense of foreboding.

"Hey, Kyouya," He said softly, "You don't have to pretend to smile for me, remember? We're best friends."

--

"Okaa-san!"

Kyouya looks up from his book. He glances at the clock. He had spent nearly an hour reminiscing about the euphoric blonde standing in front of him, hands clasped in what appeared to be utter joy and jubilation.

Kyouya picks up a pen and begins to take notes on the book, studiously ignoring Tamaki's constant reference to him as 'mother.' He doesn't think his brain can take more than eleven hours and thirty-one minutes of Tamaki a day. Over the years, his brain has expanded in its acceptance of Tamaki/the extraordinary, but he feels that he shouldn't push himself too far in one day. He may implode.

"Yes, Tamaki?" He says evenly, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Tamaki seats himself next to Kyouya ostentatiously, smiling manically, "I just wanted to see my best friend!"

"You saw me at school," Kyouya finds himself repeating Haruhi's words, "Do you not tire of me?"

"Me?" Tamaki blinks his brilliantly indigo eyes innocently, "Tired of you? How could you even _think_ such a thing? Till the day I die, Kyou-kun, I shall _never tire of you_!"

The shadow king lets out a long, frustrated sigh. Thinking of Haruhi irked him further. For some reason (another reason Kyouya could not explain, despite all his efforts) Haruhi annoys Kyouya. If he were to somehow extract Tamaki from the equation that involved _friendship_ then he supposes he would have gotten along fine with Haruhi. He wouldn't have to pretend to like her as much as he did now. Yet he can't help but feel resentful towards her. Haruhi has, of course, done nothing.

Kyouya pauses in his writing surreptitiously and observes the prince out of the corner of his onyx-eyes. His smile, his eyes, his face, his hair – why is everything about him so _perfect_? He is untainted, flawless, almost. Tamaki sits next to him, spread out carelessly across the seat. His golden hair flits about his eyes when he exhales and his eyes act as if they are a kaleidoscope caught in the light, flickering and shimmering between pale lavenders and deep, rich indigos. He looks thoughtful and absorbed; a way in which he only acts with Kyouya and no one else.

_Or so I thought_.

Kyouya finds it hard to hate Haruhi. In fact: he cannot. It is impossible for him. With her luminous eyes and her slow, dazzling smile, she's captivated even the darkest of lords. The only reason Kyouya, however, shows interest in Haruhi Fujioka is because his best friend somehow cannot seem to get enough of her. Therein lays his problem. Every time they smile at each other, every time they laugh together, even the rare times they come into physical contact, he finds his chest constricting slightly. He tries to reason. He tries to be logical. He tries to hypothesize. He tries to theorize. He even tries to lie. Yet something stops all that. Like a brick wall – he just _collides_. Kyouya doesn't want to know the whys or wherefores any longer; he's afraid of what he may find.

Unfortunately some part of him, the more innocent and recently discovered (only because of the eye-catching youth musing next to him) part that is still tender and barely touched, knows that he is covetous. Kyouya rests his face on one of his hands and flicks his pencil around his hand repetitively in a defeated and, at the same time, perturbed manner.

Tamaki picks up the dark aura surrounding his best friend and turns slightly, a smile lighting his features.

"Ne, 'kaa-san?"

Kyouya steadies himself, nearly dropping his pencil. _Just breathe_, he tells himself, _breathe_.

This is unfortunate thought for Kyouya for whenever he dissolves into thoughts about anyone – no matter _who_ it may be for _whatever_ reason – taking Tamaki away from him, he simply cannot breathe. His throat astringes, his mind comes to a stand-still and that muscle within his chest, just _beating and beating_, stops.

He turns to the source of commotion, "Hai, Otou-san?"

"I'm gonna go get something to drink, okay?" He smiles beatifically, radiating what appears to be pure elation. "Do you want anything?"

Kyouya leans back in his seat, sinking against the expensive suede. He examines Tamaki carefully, his eyes passing over the blonde's face acrimoniously as he thinks of someone taking him away, "Stay put. There's no need to exert your body when we have maids."

Of course, even after Kyouya has ordered all Tamaki wants, he knows that mere maids are not going to stop him. Not when Tamaki can simply defy anything that is common sense with an effortless wave of his hand and his head full of proverbs and pure optimism.

As he sits next to Tamaki, not touching his tea, he finally admits to himself that there are only so many merits you can gain from one person. There are only so many things you can get from helping someone. Even though Kyouya has so _obviously_ exhausted everything he can gain from Tamaki business-wise, he can't leave him alone. Of course he can't leave him alone.

"AH!" Tamaki half-sobs. "Kyouya! I am _so_ sorry! I ruined your couch! I didn't know – I am _sososo _sorry! Please, forgive me! I was just drinking tea, but then—"

Not when Tamaki needs him so badly.

--

Kyouya sits indolently on one of the unnecessarily expensive school benches, reading the book he was _supposed_ to finish last night until a certain blonde extinguished all hopes of that. The book absorbs him once more. He does not pay attention to Honey-Senpai, playing with Usa-chan and Mori-Senpai near the rose gardens. He does not pay attention to the twins, who sit on one of the marble pillars plotting and scheming against 'my lord.' He does not pay attention to Haruhi, who sits on a nearby waterfall, trailing her fingers in the water. He does not pay attention to his surroundings, his feelings, the weather – _anything at all_.

Kyouya hears a pair of footsteps. He needn't turn around to see who it is because he knows them as well as his own.

"Kyou-kun!" A delighted prince pounces on him, "What are you reading?"

Kyouya predicts, at this moment, that he may never finish his book.

"A book." He says shortly.

Tamaki rolls his violet orbs and grins, "What about, Kyou_ya_?"

"Friendship."

"Ne, Kyou-kun, we'll always be best friends, hai?"

Kyouya pauses to think about this. He's beyond asking himself how others are so transparent in their actions whereas Tamaki is so opaque that it's hard to understand what even goes on in his head, sometimes. He does not question how Tamaki knew about his dubiety – _fear_ some may call it – about their friendship. He turns to look at Tamaki and inclines his head slightly. Tamaki grins widely, rivalling the sun as he does so. He knew that was agreement. He wants to ask Kyouya more (such as how he _just knew_ they would be friends forever) but he knows the shadow king will not grace anything he asks now with an answer.

"Anyway, what sort of _fun_ is _this_ supposed to be? C'mon! Let's do something that's _really fun_!" He skates over the last topic, wanting to indulge himself in the host club's day off.

"For example?" Kyouya asks languidly.

"Ano," Tamaki pauses for a moment, "Maybe we can—_what are you doing? Get away from her, you rouges!"_

His best friend bolts away, screeching and flailing, trying to pry the twins away from Haruhi as they touch her in a needlessly excessive manner. Kyouya is immune to Tamaki's constant ramblings and mood swings, so this does not affect him in any way.

Hitherto.

_I can't breathe._

Kyouya pushes his book away and pulls of his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. He fails to block out Tamaki's words, the twins protests and Haruhi's sighing.

He gets up abruptly and walks over to the ruckus. No one really notices the ominous expression he has on his face. The twins grab Haruhi and pull her away from Tamaki.

"She's not _your_ friend, Tono!" They say wickedly.

Haruhi makes no break to get away, "I don't belong to you'll, either."

"Of course _not_!" Tamaki gasps histrionically, "You are a _person_, Haruhi! Those _horrible, evil, disgusting_ twins are never to own you!"

He reaches out to pull her small frame towards his when Kyouya intervenes. The twins react at the same time, howling objections and comebacks, wanting to push Tamaki away. Haruhi also tries to stop them, trying to force them away from each other. Kyouya lands in the middle of everything.

It's hard to say who caused Kyouya to fall into the waterfall. He feels himself falling backwards, almost in slow-motion, towards the shallow, marble pool of pristine water. The water is _too_ shallow. He's more likely to collide with the cold, hard, unrelenting marble. His eyes widen. Without his glasses everything feels surreal. He can't distinguish shapes easily; he doesn't know who reaches out to grab him and misses by millimetres.

"_Kyouya_!"

Someone does manage to seize him. The body is familiar. He tries to open his eyes—

_Splash._

--

Wherever Kyouya is:

_He still cannot breathe._

--

"Is he going to be okay?"

"The doctor said so." Haruhi's voice is shaky, but firm at the same time.

He hears the distinguishable sigh of Honey-Senpai, "That was really close, ne, Takashi?"

"Ah."

"I'm glad Tono reacted so fast." The soft voice of Kaoru Hitachi in floats through to him.

"Where is he?" His twin asks after a moment of mournful silence.

"He had to get some stitches." Haruhi replies, "I'll go get him."

Kyouya is not aware of how long he lays there. It could be hours, days or even weeks. People keep filtering in and out of his room, murmuring condolences and sympathizing. Kyouya simply pretends to be asleep, whenever visitors call on him, for he has not received the visitor he most wants. He has no idea where he may be. Every other host club member has come to visit him countless times – where is Tamaki?

Kyouya rests on his bed one night, cogitating things he is sure that he would not have even dreamed of thinking before Tamaki came into his life. The moon hung outside his window like a great, pearly ghost. His eyes bore into it, looking far-away and apathetic. He closes them and sighs.

"Kyou-kun, what are you thinking about?"

Kyouya opens his eyes.

_He opens doors. He opens windows. He teaches you how to fly._

Tamaki stands next to his bed, one of his hands wrapped around the cold metal. He looks worried and tired; there is gash on his forehead with several stitches. He smiles brightly, anyway.

Tamaki seems to sense that Kyouya is no longer drawing breath. His brow furrows for a moment before he seats himself next to his best friend and rests a hand on his heart.

"Ne, 'kaa-san, just _breathe_."

Kyouya allows a shadow of a smile to touch his lips when his best friend whispers those words, "I am, you idiot."

--


End file.
